Bowlmobile

Bowlmobile!

After weeks of anxious waiting.the fated day had come. Ice storms had moved out of the path, trucks pulled out of the snow, and work delays overcome.

As a light snow freshened the landscape, Spencers tumbled into the Bock house. Amid hugs and hi's, they warmed their hands on pizza and told a harrowing tale of a freezing trek across the prairie in a chilly aluminum box devoid of heat and light.

More timid Dads would take the failure of two essential life support systems on a ship's maiden voyage as an ill omen for the journey, but Jim and Brett were long time Northwestern fans, steeled by disappointment, determined to expect victory.

With the assistance of Jim Perry, good neighbor and skilled aircraft mechanic, they pumped life into an ailing battery, fired up the propane heater, filled the water tank and got the generator on line. With high spirits, we all boarded our warm, well-lit home on wheels, setting off for our grand adventure with a hearty "Hail bowlmobile, Away!"

Clutching the cherished family copy of "Apollo 13", Valerie mused "guess we've had our glitch for this mission!"

Brett skillfully piloted the Bowlmobile down a slippery Rt. 48, while kids nintendoized in the back bedroom. Hearts were filled with glee as we passed Blue Mound and Stonington on our way to St. Louis, escorted by the plow and salt truck ahead of us, clearing our way. The moms made up bunks, and everyone settled in for an evening on the roll.

When we hit Interstate 55, it was time for Jim to relieve Brett. Val rode shotgun, while everyone else snuggled down for a snooze.

As the great St. Louis Arch shone in the distance, some loon in a small pesky vehicle decided to pass us on the right. Jim dodged him successfully, building his confidence just in time to make a very tight turn onto the beltway. Turn executed expertly, Jim triumphantly brought us onto Interstate 44, for the long trip to our next turn in Dallas. While the rest of us slept, Jim battled ice and wind, at one point with a windshield completely iced over. We pulled into a station for gas and washer fluid. Brett emerged from the quikie mart with two bakery bags and a triumphant grin, observing "Last I checked, you can't buy donuts on an airplane!"

By morning, we were through Missouri, entering beautiful Oklahoma, where we could see that the ice fairy who had threatened to cancel this adventure had been working overtime. Trees glistened everywhere. Fortunately, Oklahoma has salt trucks too, so the roads were clear. We saw what sights of beautiful Tulsa were available from Rt. 44, remarking on the Schaumburgification of America. It's a beautiful thing to know that one need never be far from a Wal-mart.

Linda took kitchen duty, preparing breakfast for our hungry crew. The bowlmobile's microwave did something we'd never before witnessed...it actually incinerated a bagel! When the smoke cleared, Linda adjusted the cooking configuration and provided bagels for all.

Jim took over for Brett just past Tulsa. Spirits were high as we realized that we would be making the turn for Dallas in just two short hours.

Suddenly, there was a thunk. The thunk was followed by a disturbing tweeting noise and an even more disconcerting degradation of handling. We limped off the interstate into beautiful Bristow, Oklahoma, and sent Jim to scout out the possibilities for finding repair services at Bud's gas station.

The gentlemen at Bud's gave their considered attention to our problem, exploring different options and finally settling on the Firestone dealership as our best bet. We tried not to make too much of the omen that a Bridgestone-Firestone sign might indicate.

Thanks to the wonders of wireless telephone technology, Brett contacted George of Crawfordsville, the purveyor of Bowlmobiles. Several tense calls later, it was determined that we would not be asking the good people of Firestone to repair our wounded vehicle, but instead would be having it towed to Oklahoma City. A coach would be coming to spirit the kids and womenfolk to Oklahoma City, while the men stayed with our wounded steed.

We called Doug to let him know of our plight, and to be alert for an upcoming change of plans. Brett confessed that the stress of this latest development was taking its toll on the menfolk. Brett, sworn to a weight reduction program, was seriously considering drowning his troubles in a bag of donuts, while Jim, whose latest health regimen involves abstaining from alcohol, was thinking hard about a sixpack. With the helpful, generous nature which he usually reserves for e-mail among his best running buddies, Doug suggested scouting out Bristow for a Krispie Kreme place next to a bar.

As we waited for our coach, the children cavorted on the ice of the Firestone loading dock, while the women went on a scouting expedition. To our great good fortune, we learned that the famed Bristow Pirates compete under the same colors as our fair alma mater. We were able to find many treasures-- a 2001 calendar from the florist/jc penney catalog store featuring a holograph of the space shuttle and the space station, some lovely pink fuzzy car slippers, a beautiful fuzzy purple picture frame, and a postcard of the 1935 dust storm to remind us that things could always be worse.

Our coach arrived to whisk us off to the wonders of Oklahoma City. And what a coach it was, with torn vinyl seating for 20!

It would be hard to describe the look on the faces of the good people at Boyd Chevrolet when they realized that a party of 2 women and 6 children who had no interest whatsoever in a truck purchase would be hanging out in their showroom for an undetermined length of time.

While the men waited patiently for the tow truck, kids watched football and chatted. Luke napped. Finally, it was decided that an adventure was in order. We would leave Boyd Chevrolet, and hike to Wal-Mart in search of slippers and perhaps a snack. The landscape was a wonderland of ice, snow, car dealerships, warehouses, and industrial parks, with lots of puddles for splashing and the occasional spray from a passing car. Val and Jimmy decided to turn back to await the imminent arrival of the Dads, but Linda, Jessica, Steve, Eric, Katie and Luke forged on.

They were not disappointed, for the Wal-mart had fabulous slippers in all styles and colors. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Val read all about GM's sponsorship of Ken Burns' Jazz (coming to PBS in January! Have you heard?) At length, the men arrived, and brought sad tidings. The bowlmobile had suffered serious damage to the axel and wheel assembly, and would see no bowl this time.

George, our hero, arranged for an even bigger Bowlmobile II. The men transferred our worldly goods to the new bowlmobile. Jimmy and Val set off to join the rest of our intrepid band at Applebees, where a fine dinner was served by a sympathetic waitress who filled the margaritas for the mommies to overflowing. Meals to go were ordered for the Dads, and there was great celebration when the new, Better Than Ever Challenger Bowlmobile rolled into the Applebees.

We were on the road again! We called ahead to Dallas, alerting Doug and Terry that we would be Very Late, and suggesting that they move on to San Antonio as planned rather than waiting for us. The road gods smiled upon us. Clear roads, no wind. Children snuggled in their bunks. The good folks at the KOA said "no problem" to our ETA of 2 a.m., assuring us that security would be available to take us to our berth. The plans for pizza rolls on the ride were foiled by the realization that the cookie sheet had somehow been left behind (Can you believe the guys didn't think to check whether anything had been stowed in the oven?!) in Bowlmobile I.

Slot W22 was indeed waiting for us, with water *and* electricity! No snoozing to the hum of the road and the generator tonight! No, we would sleep the sleep of the exhausted in a quiet park, right by the playground. The boys were resettled on the floor to free up the bunks for their wiped-out parents, and all was quiet.

Game Day! The morning dawned bright and full of promise. Blissfully, we missed the dawn, facing the day instead at the far more civilized hour of 8:00.

We prepared to indulge in a luxury denied us the previous day, a hot shower. In a tribute to flexibility and consideration, ten people achieved cleanliness sharing a single shower and six towels in under one hour.

Sadly, the cereal, poptarts, and English muffins suffered the same fate as the cookie sheet, but bagels were accepted with grace by our party.

Doug and Terry arrived to chauffer us to beautiful San Antonio, where we gaily greeted the Flowers and Israel families, marvelled at the beauty of the Riverwalk, learned all about the Alamo, and ate fabulous Mexican food. Some of us enjoyed the riverboat ride, others picked the virtual rollercoaster, while still others practiced vegging Doug's hotel room. In celebration of the big Game, we enjoyed a giant Mrs. Fields' Cookie emblazoned with a beautiful Purple and White N.

We attended the pregame pep rally, where the children velcroed themselves to a goal post and raced each other while being held back with bungee cords. We played a bit of street football, and enjoyed the marching bands. Finally, it was time to enter the stadium. A kind CornHusker took a picture of our entire crew. Much to our pleasant surprise, our seats were at "club" level...a second balcony much smaller than either the ground level or third level. This meant almost no lines for important stuff like the bathroom. We settled in to enjoy the game, which we did for the first half. By the end of the third quarter, it was clear that there would be no Northwestern victory to celebrate.

We left, disappointed but still thrilled to have been part of the experience. Doug ferried us all back to the bowlmobile, then ferried the womenfolk to the Faboo Super 8 motel, where we had taken rooms to assure that everyone could have a real bed, and a real shower the next morning. Oddly, the value of these rooms had increased markedly in the time since they had been contracted for. Valerie and Katie went to bed and fell fast asleep. Linda, on the other hand, was entertained for hours by the merriment in the room above hers.

The morning news carried the startling fact that 2-3 inches of snow were expected in Dallas for New Years Eve. We braced for more adventure.

The menfolk came to share our showers and the Sunday morning presentation of ghostbusters on cable, and we all tumbled back into the bowlmobile for the trip to Dallas. We enjoyed a fabulous breakfast at Skillets, where our wonderful waitress told us she was 72, and had waitressed since she was 15, because she just likes meeting the people. She was a total pro, and we had a most enjoyable meal thanks to her ministrations.

We headed north, in contact with the Dougmobile. Plans were made for stopping at the legendary Nike Outlet North of Waco, where a running kind o' guy could get his favorite shoes at half off.

Linda took a much-needed nap, and settled in to do some charting. Brett ceded the wheel to Jim and took a little snoozle himself. The kids watched videos for a while, then decided on Mario Tennis, while Valerie popped open her beloved computer, giving her fingers some much missed exercise.

Sure enough, telltale ice began to form on the windshield. Shoeshopping was cancelled. As we closed in on Doug's house, the roads became slick and the passengers quieted down so the Dads could concentrate. We exited the interstate on the phone to Doug, who guided us in to where our escort led us to the Flowers home. The bowlmobile glided down the street, snapping only a few branches along the way.

We were greeted by hugs, hearty hellos and the promise of pizza. Texas children do not get to go sledding very often, so spirits were high as cardboard was rounded up to serve as sleds and gloves and jackets were donned. Everyone, even little two-year-old Zack had a fab time. Linda and Valerie and Donna pretended to be helpful while Karen bustled around the kitchen, making a terrific cheeseball and keeping everyone in drinks. Eleven children and eight adults settled in--the kids to perform serious evaluation of Bram and Michael's new Playstation 2, the grownups to swap stories. We rang the new millenium in on New York Time, then quieted just a bit. The intrepid Spencers camped in the Bowlmobile, Katie enjoyed Michael's room, Val and Jim slipped into Bram's bed, while the rest of the guys camped on the game room floor and watched Stuart Little.

New Years Day 2001 began with preparations for the great rib-off. At stake was the honor of Terry and Jim, who had been put up to this competition by Brett the Incorrigible. Once again, technical difficulties reared their ugly head...the gas valve on the new grill was not functioning. Fortunately, the Home Depot cheerfully substituted our defective grill for a new one, and the day was saved. A rollicking game of boys against the girls pictionary helped break up the tension surrounding the riboff (and distracted us from the delicious smells coming through the back door!) Jim's tangy, spicy sauce vied with Terry's sweet sauce and tender ribs, and in the end, it appears that the winners were all of us diners! Despite the fact that we had two adolescent boys among us, it was not Tim and Jim who hovered hoping the grownups would leave enough for seconds, but Jessica and Katie! I guess holding their own against 9 boys aged 2 to 14 requires serious fuel.

All too soon, it was time to set off for home. Hugs and kisses and well-wishes exchanged, the Bocks and Spencers were cleared for launch by the Doug and Terry ground crew.

The children awoke to a winter wonderland, hoarfrost from the lifting fog covering the trees. A true friend to the last, Brett piloted the bowlmobile through Beautiful Blue Mound to see Jim's future office despite the fact that the future officeholder was snoozing in the back.

We unloaded Bock stuff and wished our friends a safe trip home, confident that the memories would make for stories to tell for years to come.

Bowlmobile!


After weeks of anxious waiting.the fated day had come. Ice storms had moved out of the path, trucks pulled out of the snow, and work delays overcome. As a light snow freshened the landscape, Spencers tumbled into the Bock house. Amid hugs and hi's, they warmed their hands on pizza and told a harrowing tale of a freezing trek across the prairie in a chilly aluminum box devoid of heat and light. More timid Dads would take the failure of two essential life support systems on a ship's maiden voyage as an ill omen for the journey, but Jim and Brett were long time Northwestern fans, steeled by disappointment, determined to expect victory. With the assistance of Jim Perry, good neighbor and skilled aircraft mechanic, they pumped life into an ailing battery, fired up the propane heater, filled the water tank and got the generator on line. With high spirits, we all boarded our warm, well-lit home on wheels, setting off for our grand adventure with a hearty "Hail bowlmobile, Away!" Clutching the cherished family copy of "Apollo 13", Valerie mused "guess we've had our glitch for this mission!"
	Brett skillfully piloted the Bowlmobile down a slippery Rt. 48, while kids nintendoized in the back bedroom. Hearts were filled with glee as we passed Blue Mound and Stonington on our way to St. Louis, escorted by the plow and salt truck ahead of us, clearing our way. The moms made up bunks, and everyone settled in for an evening on the roll. When we hit Interstate 55, it was time for Jim to relieve Brett. Val rode shotgun, while everyone else snuggled down for a snooze. As the great St. Louis Arch shone in the distance, some loon in a small pesky vehicle decided to pass us on the right. Jim dodged him successfully, building his confidence just in time to make a very tight turn onto the beltway. Turn executed expertly, Jim triumphantly brought us onto Interstate 44, for the long trip to our next turn in Dallas. While the rest of us slept, Jim battled ice and wind, at one point with a windshield completely iced over. We pulled into a station for gas and washer fluid. Brett emerged from the quikie mart with two bakery bags and a triumphant grin, observing "Last I checked, you can't buy donuts on an airplane!" By morning, we were through Missouri, entering beautiful Oklahoma, where we could see that the ice fairy who had threatened to cancel this adventure had been working overtime. Trees glistened everywhere. Fortunately, Oklahoma has salt trucks too, so the roads were clear. We saw what sights of beautiful Tulsa were available from Rt. 44, remarking on the Schaumburgification of America. It's a beautiful thing to know that one need never be far from a Wal-mart. Linda took kitchen duty, preparing breakfast for our hungry crew. The bowlmobile's microwave did something we'd never before witnessed...it actually incinerated a bagel! When the smoke cleared, Linda adjusted the cooking configuration and provided bagels for all. Jim took over for Brett just past Tulsa. Spirits were high as we realized that we would be making the turn for Dallas in just two short hours.
Suddenly, there was a thunk. The thunk was followed by a disturbing tweeting noise and an even more disconcerting degradation of handling. We limped off the interstate into beautiful Bristow, Oklahoma, and sent Jim to scout out the possibilities for finding repair services at Bud's gas station. The gentlemen at Bud's gave their considered attention to our problem, exploring different options and finally settling on the Firestone dealership as our best bet. We tried not to make too much of the omen that a Bridgestone-Firestone sign might indicate. Thanks to the wonders of wireless telephone technology, Brett contacted George of Crawfordsville, the purveyor of Bowlmobiles. Several tense calls later, it was determined that we would not be asking the good people of Firestone to repair our wounded vehicle, but instead would be having it towed to Oklahoma City. A coach would be coming to spirit the kids and womenfolk to Oklahoma City, while the men stayed with our wounded steed. We called Doug to let him know of our plight, and to be alert for an upcoming change of plans. Brett confessed that the stress of this latest development was taking its toll on the menfolk. Brett, sworn to a weight reduction program, was seriously considering drowning his troubles in a bag of donuts, while Jim, whose latest health regimen involves abstaining from alcohol, was thinking hard about a sixpack. With the helpful, generous nature which he usually reserves for e-mail among his best running buddies, Doug suggested scouting out Bristow for a Krispie Kreme place next to a bar. As we waited for our coach, the children cavorted on the ice of the Firestone loading dock, while the women went on a scouting expedition. To our great good fortune, we learned that the famed Bristow Pirates compete under the same colors as our fair alma mater. We were able to find many treasures-- a 2001 calendar from the florist/jc penney catalog store featuring a holograph of the space shuttle and the space station, some lovely pink fuzzy car slippers, a beautiful fuzzy purple picture frame, and a postcard of the 1935 dust storm to remind us that things could always be worse.

	Our coach arrived to whisk us off to the wonders of Oklahoma City. And what a coach it was, with torn vinyl seating for 20! It would be hard to describe the look on the faces of the good people at Boyd Chevrolet when they realized that a party of 2 women and 6 children who had no interest whatsoever in a truck purchase would be hanging out in their showroom for an undetermined length of time. While the men waited patiently for the tow truck, kids watched football and chatted. Luke napped. Finally, it was decided that an adventure was in order. We would leave Boyd Chevrolet, and hike to Wal-Mart in search of slippers and perhaps a snack. The landscape was a wonderland of ice, snow, car dealerships, warehouses, and industrial parks, with lots of puddles for splashing and the occasional spray from a passing car. Val and Jimmy decided to turn back to await the imminent arrival of the Dads, but Linda, Jessica, Steve, Eric, Katie and Luke forged on.

They were not disappointed, for the Wal-mart had fabulous slippers in all styles and colors. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Val read all about GM's sponsorship of Ken Burns' Jazz (coming to PBS in January! Have you heard?) At length, the men arrived, and brought sad tidings. The bowlmobile had suffered serious damage to the axel and wheel assembly, and would see no bowl this time. George, our hero, arranged for an even bigger Bowlmobile II. The men transferred our worldly goods to the new bowlmobile. Jimmy and Val set off to join the rest of our intrepid band at Applebees, where a fine dinner was served by a sympathetic waitress who filled the margaritas for the mommies to overflowing. Meals to go were ordered for the Dads, and there was great celebration when the new, Better Than Ever Challenger Bowlmobile rolled into the Applebees.

	We were on the road again! We called ahead to Dallas, alerting Doug and Terry that we would be Very Late, and suggesting that they move on to San Antonio as planned rather than waiting for us. The road gods smiled upon us. Clear roads, no wind. Children snuggled in their bunks. The good folks at the KOA said "no problem" to our ETA of 2 a.m., assuring us that security would be available to take us to our berth. The plans for pizza rolls on the ride were foiled by the realization that the cookie sheet had somehow been left behind (Can you believe the guys didn't think to check whether anything had been stowed in the oven?!) in Bowlmobile I. Slot W22 was indeed waiting for us, with water and electricity! No snoozing to the hum of the road and the generator tonight! No, we would sleep the sleep of the exhausted in a quiet park, right by the playground. The boys were resettled on the floor to free up the bunks for their wiped-out parents, and all was quiet.

Game Day! The morning dawned bright and full of promise. Blissfully, we missed the dawn, facing the day instead at the far more civilized hour of 8:00. We prepared to indulge in a luxury denied us the previous day, a hot shower. In a tribute to flexibility and consideration, ten people achieved cleanliness sharing a single shower and six towels in under one hour. Sadly, the cereal, poptarts, and English muffins suffered the same fate as the cookie sheet, but bagels were accepted with grace by our party. Doug and Terry arrived to chauffer us to beautiful San Antonio, where we gaily greeted the Flowers and Israel families, marvelled at the beauty of the Riverwalk, learned all about the Alamo, and ate fabulous Mexican food. Some of us enjoyed the riverboat ride, others picked the virtual rollercoaster, while still others practiced vegging Doug's hotel room. In celebration of the big Game, we enjoyed a giant Mrs. Fields' Cookie emblazoned with a beautiful Purple and White N.


We attended the pregame pep rally, where the children velcroed themselves to a goal post and raced each other while being held back with bungee cords. We played a bit of street football, and enjoyed the marching bands. Finally, it was time to enter the stadium. A kind CornHusker took a picture of our entire crew. Much to our pleasant surprise, our seats were at "club" level...a second balcony much smaller than either the ground level or third level. This meant almost no lines for important stuff like the bathroom. We settled in to enjoy the game, which we did for the first half. By the end of the third quarter, it was clear that there would be no Northwestern victory to celebrate.

	We left, disappointed but still thrilled to have been part of the experience. Doug ferried us all back to the bowlmobile, then ferried the womenfolk to the Faboo Super 8 motel, where we had taken rooms to assure that everyone could have a real bed, and a real shower the next morning. Oddly, the value of these rooms had increased markedly in the time since they had been contracted for. Valerie and Katie went to bed and fell fast asleep. Linda, on the other hand, was entertained for hours by the merriment in the room above hers. The morning news carried the startling fact that 2-3 inches of snow were expected in Dallas for New Years Eve. We braced for more adventure. The menfolk came to share our showers and the Sunday morning presentation of ghostbusters on cable, and we all tumbled back into the bowlmobile for the trip to Dallas. We enjoyed a fabulous breakfast at Skillets, where our wonderful waitress told us she was 72, and had waitressed since she was 15, because she just likes meeting the people. She was a total pro, and we had a most enjoyable meal thanks to her ministrations. We headed north, in contact with the Dougmobile. Plans were made for stopping at the legendary Nike Outlet North of Waco, where a running kind o' guy could get his favorite shoes at half off.
Linda took a much-needed nap, and settled in to do some charting. Brett ceded the wheel to Jim and took a little snoozle himself. The kids watched videos for a while, then decided on Mario Tennis, while Valerie popped open her beloved computer, giving her fingers some much missed exercise.

	Sure enough, telltale ice began to form on the windshield. Shoeshopping was cancelled. As we closed in on Doug's house, the roads became slick and the passengers quieted down so the Dads could concentrate. We exited the interstate on the phone to Doug, who guided us in to where our escort led us to the Flowers home. The bowlmobile glided down the street, snapping only a few branches along the way. We were greeted by hugs, hearty hellos and the promise of pizza. Texas children do not get to go sledding very often, so spirits were high as cardboard was rounded up to serve as sleds and gloves and jackets were donned. Everyone, even little two-year-old Zack had a fab time. Linda and Valerie and Donna pretended to be helpful while Karen bustled around the kitchen, making a terrific cheeseball and keeping everyone in drinks. Eleven children and eight adults settled in--the kids to perform serious evaluation of Bram and Michael's new Playstation 2, the grownups to swap stories. We rang the new millenium in on New York Time, then quieted just a bit. The intrepid Spencers camped in the Bowlmobile, Katie enjoyed Michael's room, Val and Jim slipped into Bram's bed, while the rest of the guys camped on the game room floor and watched Stuart Little.
New Years Day 2001 began with preparations for the great rib-off. At stake was the honor of Terry and Jim, who had been put up to this competition by Brett the Incorrigible. Once again, technical difficulties reared their ugly head...the gas valve on the new grill was not functioning. Fortunately, the Home Depot cheerfully substituted our defective grill for a new one, and the day was saved. A rollicking game of boys against the girls pictionary helped break up the tension surrounding the riboff (and distracted us from the delicious smells coming through the back door!) Jim's tangy, spicy sauce vied with Terry's sweet sauce and tender ribs, and in the end, it appears that the winners were all of us diners! Despite the fact that we had two adolescent boys among us, it was not Tim and Jim who hovered hoping the grownups would leave enough for seconds, but Jessica and Katie! I guess holding their own against 9 boys aged 2 to 14 requires serious fuel.

	All too soon, it was time to set off for home. Hugs and kisses and well-wishes exchanged, the Bocks and Spencers were cleared for launch by the Doug and Terry ground crew. The children awoke to a winter wonderland, hoarfrost from the lifting fog covering the trees. A true friend to the last, Brett piloted the bowlmobile through Beautiful Blue Mound to see Jim's future office despite the fact that the future officeholder was snoozing in the back. We unloaded Bock stuff and wished our friends a safe trip home, confident that the memories would make for stories to tell for years to come.